


Pretend All The Good Things Are For You

by Disaster-Prince (Gay_as_fuck)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Baking, Character Study, Denial, Epilogue Inspired, Father-Daughter Relationship, Gen, Grooming, Growing Up, Implied/Referenced Mind Control, Memory Alteration, Memory Loss, No Incest, Non-Sexual, One Shot, Pre-Canon, Subliminal Messages, The 2008 Financial Crash, amateur detective work, corporate culture, maid is a selfish class!, not apologism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-05-15 14:45:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19297876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gay_as_fuck/pseuds/Disaster-Prince
Summary: Jane Crocker grows up with enough money to buy the world and her Grandfather’s stuffed corpse in the living room. Despite this, and to the relief of everyone at Crocker Corp, she grows up normal.Jane Crocker, 13-16.





	Pretend All The Good Things Are For You

**Author's Note:**

> as much as the epilogues were upsetting to read I enjoyed finally going back and getting to understand what was up w/ Jane. I do disagree with some of the stuff that was done w/ her but this is not an apology fic. The title is from hail to whatever you found in the sunlight that surrounds you by Rilo Kiley

XIII: 2008

Her first memory is surprisingly clear, a skill she’s always had. She’s three in that memory and planning tag with her father. He lets her catch him and falls down to the floor with a hearty laugh before ruffling her hair and giving her a forehead kiss.

It, like so much of her home, has the slight smell of tobacco and house cleaner. There’s even a picture on the mantelpiece that she suspects was from that day. She passes it at least once every day, though she doesn’t always think to look at it.

She rarely thinks of that day anymore, much less speaks about it. It is simply part of her life, unremarkable in every way except that it is the first thing she remembers. Even that isn’t important since that had been hundreds of days before that day and thousands after.

When she was a child she thought of each day as its own adventure though it became increasingly clear that was not the case. The more days she lived through the more she knew everything was the same. So, of course, she started looking for clues.

She puts on her investigator’s hat, even though she knows it makes her look silly. Her father is out at the store for now though, so she is free to be as silly as she wants. Not that her father would say anything about it, in fact, he would probably not pay any attention to it at all. A clear sign of his disappointment.

If there was no excitement in her life there had to be some secret to solve, no matter how mundane. She starts in the living room, pushing the couch away from the wall with a huff. She’s getting stronger every day, though she doubts she’ll ever be as strong as her father.

“Okay”, she says to herself after that thought passes through her mind, “That’ll be today’s mystery.” She leaves the couch at its angle away from the wall and pulls out her notepad and novelty mustache pen. She dates the page.

 

  * Why is my father so strong?



 

  * Has he always been this strong?



 

She leans down to inspect the floor next to the couch. If there are a bunch of scratches it means that he doesn’t lift it to move it around. She presses her fingers to the grooves, some brand new from its recent movement.

She makes note of her discovery before pushing the couch back and moving on.

 

  * Has he always been this strong?



Limited lesions from moving the couch

 

She casts a glance at Popop from where he’s watching her on the other side of the room. She knows that he’s dead, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t watching her. Maybe Little Sebastian is hiding out in there, but there’s no movement from his pinned flesh.

She moves over to him anyways and examines his arms. They’re toned, but not unreasonably ripped. He has about the same body type as her father, fit but with a bit of chub on the side.

 

  * Why is my dad so strong?



Similar body type to Popop

Genetic? (unlikely considering that I don’t have it)

Secret Crocker men training technique? (too anime)

 

She leaves him where he is, wishing belatedly that she could ask him. Instead, it is on to the kitchen. She inspects the spice cabinet first, rooting around the back for anything out of the ordinary. She finds nothing, just oregano and cooking wine.

She does a sweep of the rest of the kitchen, climbing up on the counter and checking every nook and cranny. There’s nothing of interest in the kitchen, the bathroom, or even the front hall. She knows better than to go into his room or his study but that doesn’t stop her from slinking by and poking her head in.

After a simple glimpse of his desk, she slams the door to his study shut. Just in time, it turns out, since she hears his car pull up. She scampers downstairs, pocketing her notepad and pen again. He’s bringing in all the groceries in one trip like always, arms overburdened with red boxes and on-sale meats. He sets them down gently on the kitchen counter as she slips out the front door to close the trunk.

It’s a routine they have together. Despite his absurd strength, there are simply too many groceries for him to close the car while carrying them. She returns to the house and does her best to help him put away his load. They work in silence, her piling up items for the fridge and him loading baking boxes into their special shelf.

Once that is all squared away he flips open their Master Recipe Cookbook, Betty branded of course. She helps him make dinner, handling all of their candy apple red cookware with care. Despite her love for blue, and her father's love for black and white, their house brims with the color red. It brings excitement and energy, every time she lays eyes on it she just has the urge to get up and go.

He deals with the oven while she sets the table. They've grown so used to this routine, as fundamental and benign as her first memory. It's always been the two of them, why would they do it any different? As they eat together their conversation flows. He tells her about an annoying customer at the office and she details her day at the Lehman Brothers Future Heirs Highschool. She offers advice for pranks to play on his co-workers to which he smiles and nods. She knows the won't implement them, but it's fun to come up with them all the same. She doesn't tell him about her investigation and doesn't bother to ask. Asking him would spoil the game and she's sure he would have told her if he wanted her to know.

After they clean up together she makes a note in her notepad: "To be continued...". She pockets the book again and frowns to herself. Most of the investigations in her book are incomplete, times when the trail went dry or the topic was just too boring. She can't help but want for something interesting to happen, something that demands a real investigation. 

They settle down on the couch to play cards and he ruffles her hair. It's the same as it's been for years, and suddenly it's not, because their bright red TV turns itself on. Warnings flash across the screen and something she recognizes as stocks dance and drop in red. And this day becomes a memory too because it is the day the world became interesting for once. 

 

XIIII: 2009 

Jane examines her wardrobe, hands smoothing over the few dresses she has. Her father is downstairs ironing his dress shirts while she decides what to wear. Her eyes flicker between two dresses, her favorite and a gift. Her eyes linger on the periwinkle A-line dress she had chosen for herself a year ago, the obvious choice. Still, there is the cocktail dress the corporation had purchased specifically for her.

She can't exactly show up to a Crocker Corp event wearing blue so she changes into the red dress. She turns around in the mirror, getting used to seeing herself in something so bright. She loves their red, no argument there, but it's strange to dress in it. She smooths the fabric down and tries to shake the feeling of being a turkey about to be shoved in the oven. Makeup is foreign to her so she avoids the branded box which came with the dress that has been sitting atop her dresser ever since.

She can't help but regret her choice since she has seen the power such things can give her. She has seen many pictures of Roxy's famous mother, dressed to the nines and with eyeliner sharper than a knife. She stares at her face in the mirror and pouts her lips in the way she's seen many of the Crocker Corp Brand Influencers do. She stops as soon as she starts, her expression far too petulant for a proper heiress.

She leaves her room and ventures downstairs to find her father adjusting his tie. He's the very picture of a corporate executive with the same authority to him as Mrs.Lalonde. His presentation is appealing in its simplicity, far easier to pull off than dramatic makeup looks. He smiles at her and goes to ruffle her hair, as he always does, before pulling his hand back.

"Are you ready for your big day?" He asks as he starts walking towards the door. She follows, slipping on the red heels that came with the outfit. She stumbles in them at first while she answers her father's question.

"Ready as I'll ever be." She stumbles again on the way to the car, face flushing red at the action and wishing she had just brought black flats.

"I think you look spectacular sweetheart." She rolls her eyes at that, not that he notices. Of course, she tells her father thank you, if only to be polite. She doesn't exactly trust his opinion on dresses, being her father and all.

She slides into the passenger's side of the car and they listen to crooners all the way to the Crocker Corp Headquarters right in Seattle. She can't help but fret all the way there, examining her face in the sun visor's built-in mirror. Not even the soothing tones of Bryan Ferry can calm her jitters or calm her hands from where they worry at the hem of her dress. Her father makes no comment on it, only giving her a reassuring back pat when they finally arrive.

She stumbles less on her way to the door with him trailing close behind her. The doors open automatically though there still is a security guard standing there. One look at her and he lets her past, though he does demand an id from her dad. He may be part of the company, but he's not the heir. That position has always been meant for her.

She makes her way to the front desk, succeeding in not stumbling for the first time that morning. The woman sitting there has her blond hair up in a bun, a wide smile and piercing gaze.

"Miss Jane, we've been expecting you." She doesn't break eye contact as she picks up a folder full to bursting and hands it to Jane. "Of course, thank you", Jane replies as she puts most of her focus into not shifting her weight or messing with the folder.

"Included is everything our up and coming Heiress would ever need to know." She pulls out another pile of papers, this time a glossy packet. "And here is the information necessary for the meeting you'll be attending. We're so excited to finally have you involved in corporate affairs." Jane smiles at that despite the strange feeling that stirs in her gut.

"Just go left," the woman points with one impossibly perfect nail, "and take the elevator to the highest floor. The meeting is just about to start." Jane walks away with a glance back, unsure if there's anything else she should have said. The woman is still watching her with that smile pinned to her face, addressing absolutely none of Jane's questions. Her father walks by her side and offers his arms for her pile of paperwork. She hands him the folder but keeps the sheet with the current meetings information on it.

As the two of them enter the elevator she takes a moment to examine what this meeting's topic will be. The packet declares that they will be discussing a buyout of Kellogs, their last major competitor. She knew that this was coming for a while now but she hadn't expected the takeover to be so soon. Some groups like Hamburger Helper had been unable to survive the crash and Betty had been primed at the ready.

Jane recalled easily her favorite headline from the first few months after the crash, "The Genius of Betty Crocker." After hearing about the crash she had, like any good Heiress, immediately logged onto her father's desktop and checked Betty Crocker's Stock. It had, miraculously, only lost 10 points that day. The article had called it a dreaded day though she found herself doubting that even now. After all, the company had not been forced to scale down at all. In fact, the company was currently expanding its aid programs for the out of work. According to the corporation's own statistics, the jobs provided by Betty were of such high quality no one ever stopped working for them.

The elevator stops moving and scans the pair before opening its door seamlessly. the laser tickles her scalp and sends her shivering, though her father takes it better.

"First time with the scanner huh?" He asks and she doesn't answer, blushing slightly with her own inexperience. He chuckles at that and pats her shoulder with a comforting "You'll get used to it. By this time next year, you won't even notice."

"Why does it scan you only before you exit?" She asks as she follows in her father's footsteps. "It seems rather odd to place it right before you get out." Her father opens his mouth to answer when an attendant steps up along next to them, the same blond hair and red nails as the woman at the desk.

"Excuse me, Heiress, I can't help but notice you have a concern." Jane, startled by the sudden interjection, nods at the woman. Her smile brightens, cracking her makeup. "It's a security measure. If someone is able to get past the guards at the gate then they're certainly a threat to the company. Our foolproof scanner checks them again and if they intend to bring any harm to the company it cuts the line." Jane can't help but grimace at that, outrage boiling under her skin.

"You can't do that! What if the scanner was wrong, you could have killed us!" She barks in her righteousness.

"Jane." Her father scolds as if she is the one who is out of line. "I don't like your attitude young lady. You are the Heiress to this company it's about time you started acting like it." His disapproving glance is enough to make her turn her head away, cheeks flushed red. "I don't ever want to hear something like that again."

"Of Course, I'm sorry." She says softly, but loud enough for both her father and the woman to hear. He gives her a quick "thank you" though it is clear she still isn't in his good graces again. The Crocker Corp woman's reaction is similar. She brushes off the outburst with a smile but it looks could kill Jane would be deader than a doornail. She retreats, leaving the Heiress and her father to walk the rest of the hallway and pause before a pair of huge red doors.

"This is it." Her dad says, his unreasonably strong hand steady on her back. She gulps and can't quite bring herself to step forward and push the doors open. She isn't given much of a choice on the matter since her father's attempt at a reassuring back pat pushes her to stumble forward. She catches herself with her hand, pushing the doors open. She follows through and finds herself standing in the conference room, all eyes on her. The doors slam shut behind her, her father cut out of view.

"Hello Heiress Crocker," a wrinkled man at the conference table greets her, though there's no trace of anything positive in his voice. "It's a pleasure to have you finally joining us." She opens her mouth to fire something back before her eyes land on the huge clock across the room from her; she's late.

"Thank you for having me." She bows her head and takes her place at the empty chair, one of many shaped to be their logo. The eyes of the board members continue to bore into her as she keeps her eyes down. The one woman at the table clears her throat but no one says anything. Eventually, a man with silver streaks in his slicked-back black hair grumbles something and addresses Jane.

"I believe we've wasted enough time already. Will you please move things along?" Jane looks up and meets eyes with his glare which sends goosebumps up her arms. She glances around the table, everyone similarly annoyed and expectant.

"Of course." She says, pitching her voice down in hopes to mimic her father's authority, "Shall we begin."

"You can start by using your real voice instead of acting like an idiot." The same man says, earning a chuckle from the group as they shift their papers. Jane's eyes prick with tears but she laughs along anyways.

XV : 2010

Jane heaves a sigh as she pushes away her completed Algebra homework before pushing herself up from her desk. Despite her best attempts at organization, there is simply too much that's been done and still more that needs doing. Not only have her classes at the recently renamed Betty Crocker Future Heirs Highschool been overwhelming but corporate has assigned her no small amount of paperwork.

She takes a moment to chastise herself for having to quit now but she knows that if she doesn't get something to eat the work will end up shitty. She makes her way downstairs as quietly as she can in hopes of not alerting her father. There have been many vocal threats on her life lately, which is not out of the usual, but a lull in assassination attempts has come with it. As a savvy young private eye, she knows that when things go eerily quiet is right before they blow. She smiles to herself that that phrasing, maybe she should write a letter to Mrs. Lalonde and giver her writing tips.

Luckily, her father is nowhere to be seen so she fixes herself a sandwich made from already opened containers. She hums to herself as she arranges it, trying to tap into whatever part of being in the kitchen cheers her up. Despite her determined music making and adding twirls to her movements, she can't seem to find that usual joy that comes from being in the kitchen and surrounded by her favorite things. She settles down to eat in the living room and flips on the tv in hopes of finding some other distraction.

The news channels are just playing repeat stories she heard that morning so she channel surfs, flipping past cartoon and infomercials before settling on the Betty Crocker Soap Opera. It's not her usual choice for entertainment but they do have a free subscription to the Home Betty Office, a rebrand with questionable grammatical quality. She adjusts her mental list of things to change when she's the one in charge. Home Betty Office won't be the first thing to go, but it's certainly up there. She can excuse a lot, but bad grammar is where she draws the line.

The Soap Opera's plotline is standard fare, following the main character as she attempts to fight against ridiculously cruel government legislation for the company's sake. Her husband's life is also on the line here, though Jane can't exactly figure out how. She watches with muted interest as she eats and finds herself feeling better. The show is practically dripping with the recently trademarked Betty Red which causes the hair to stand up on the back of her neck. Watching the scenes in the boardroom causes her to don a smile in spite of herself simply by imagining the next board meeting.

She scarfs down the rest of her sandwich, her appetite kicking into high gear. Her stomach still argues against her after she finishes her meal so she returns to the kitchen to finish the chocolate-cherry mousse she made last night. Her legs kick against the couch as her heart pounds, begging her body to get out of the house. She realizes that she's cheered herself up too much and does her best to settle her body movements. She has enough energy to finish her work now, but not the mindset to focus on it. She needs something boring but still enticing to get her in the right headspace.

Her eyes drift to Poppop, and more specifically, the book he's holding. It's the perfect distraction, something interesting enough written in the most draining way to focus her energy. Her urgency to focus her mind on something drives her to it quickly, pulling it from Poppop's grip with all her might. It wedges free after a short struggle, leaving her toppling backward and landing flat on her ass, the book luckily dropping a few inches away from her toes.

The house shakes from the force of the book's impact so she stays tight to the floor for a moment, waiting for something to fall or her father to notice. She watches carefully as her heavy breath shifts the recently disturbed dust and nothing else happens. She stands quickly and quietly to make her way over to the book and flips open its front cover. Her eyes stop on the inscription before they can even glance over the title page.

She'd recognize that handwriting anywhere, the dots on the I's and the lines over the t's. It's hers, despite the age and impossibility. She blinks and rubs her eyes to no avail and her breath catches in her throat. It more than catches, it sticks. The air morphs into a clot of blood that beats with the pulse of her heart and bubbles out into a laugh.

It's a joke, one of her father's. It has to be. So she closes the book and stands up, still laughing. She gasps for air as she makes her way into the kitchen, he got her good certainly. A nasty surprise for sure but a prankster always knows when she's been beaten. She lays down on the floor and looks around the room, eyes focused on every appliance covered in Betty Red. At this point she's laughing so hard she's crying, but she can't seem to stop, and she won't remember it tomorrow.

XIV: 2011

GT: Well, have you?

GG: Have I what Jake?

GT: Considered the value of Strider and Lalonde's criticisms. Surely there must be some reason for their insistence on the identity of the Batter Witch. 

GG: I'm a private eye, I've looked and looked but there's nothing to find.

GG: There's nothing wrong with my company and there's nothing wrong with me.


End file.
